


The Couch (Part 1)

by thesewordsareallihavetogive



Series: The Couch - Stiles x Reader [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27741583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesewordsareallihavetogive/pseuds/thesewordsareallihavetogive
Summary: Stiles forgets something really important and y/n doesn’t take too kindly to it.
Relationships: Scott McCall & Kira Yukimura, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Stiles Stilinski/Reader, Stiles Stilinski/You
Series: The Couch - Stiles x Reader [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029315
Kudos: 15





	The Couch (Part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> this is one of the first one-shots that i ever wrote and it got a LOT more attention that i ever expected it to. there is a part two so if ya like this i suggest reading the second part :)

It was their anniversary. _Their fucking anniversary_. But y/n was sitting at home alone, at 8:30 p.m. on a Tuesday night. She had been dressed up in a floor length silk red dress with a thigh high slit, complete with black stilettos and curls, but had since changed into an old sweatshirt and leggings. Their dinner reservation had been scheduled for 7:00 p.m. at a new Italian restaurant downtown. It was now, she checked the clock, 8:32 p.m. She hadn’t heard from Stiles since they both left for work that morning. Not a single phone call. Not even a text message. Normally she wasn’t too annoyed (or livid, as she was now) when he worked late, she actually admired the fact that he was so dedicated to his work. But this? Standing her up on their anniversary? She didn’t find that cute.

A few minutes later Stiles walked through the door, hair sticking in a thousand different directions as though he’d run his fingers through it a hundred times. y/n raised her near empty wine glass in the air as he slipped his shoes off and set his briefcase down in the hallway. 

“Stiles Stilinski, the man of the hour,” she hiccupped out with emphasis on their shared last name. She’d admit that she had a slight buzz going from the glass or two of wine she’d had, but she was nowhere near tipsy enough to forget what had happened. He walked into their living room, untying his tie as he approached her. He quirked a brow when he sensed that she was pissed, so much so that she refused to look at him as she swirled the remainder of the alcohol around her glass. He decided to pretend as if things were normal and began a casual conversation. Rookie mistake.

“Sorry I’m late, we finally got a solid lead in the case and I didn’t realize what time it was until Scott texted me and asked what we were doing tonight. Weird, right?” he explained, clearly clueless. The fucker had forgotten about their dinner reservation. y/n let out a small laugh as she looked to the ceiling and downed the rest of her wine in one gulp. _“Weird, right?”_ she mocked mentally. _Yeah, weird that I texted Kira half an hour ago after waiting around by myself all dressed up for over an hour before realizing that you weren’t coming and there’s no way we’d be able to get a seat in the restaurant now anyway. Weird that she probably was looking out for your dumb ass and she probably told Scott, who I’m surprised didn’t go to the FBI field office himself and smack some sense into you._ y/n shut her eyes and shook her head, willing her tears of anger to dry up. Stiles turned his head to the side in confusion. She was never this quiet or vague, even when she was angry. He turned his head to the side in confusion. 

“What is it, babe?” he questioned sincerely. Stiles was still so oblivious that it hadn’t dawned on him that y/n might be angry at him.

“You seriously forgot,” she stated matter-of-factly, letting out a dry laugh.

“Forgot wha- oh shit. Oh my Go- oh God I’m so sorry babe,” he fumbled, eyes wide. He immediately recognized that he was in deep, deep shit.

“Save it,” she cut him off. She leaned forward to grab the wine bottle from the coffee table and poured herself another glass. “I went out and bought a new dress, spent an hour doing my hair and makeup, and for what? For what, Stiles?! We scheduled that reservation two weeks ago. _Two weeks!_ So here I am in a sweatshirt and leggings, a full face of makeup on, well on my way to tipsy, just for you to say ‘I’m sorry’?” she finished with a long sip from her glass.

“I-” he started to apologize again, trying desperately to make things right when he stopped short. y/n had gotten up from the couch and set her glass down before she walked down the hall towards their bedroom. He was about to follow her but he saw her come back out as soon as she’d walked in, except she was now holding his pillow. The one he couldn’t sleep without. She stopped at the linen closet in the hallway, pulling out a blanket, then dropping the items on the couch. His face dropped as he realized what she was doing. “Babe, can we just talk? I’m so incredibly sorry and I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Stiles pleaded, stepping towards her to gently grab her arms but she stepped back. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples before finally looking him in the eye for the first time that night. 

“I can’t do this right now. I’m tired and I don’t want to say something I’ll regret. There’s chinese takeout in the fridge if you want to reheat that. So please, for both of our sakes, sleep out here tonight,” she tried to be gentle despite her bubbling rage. She could tell he genuinely felt sorry and she almost pitied him for a moment. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat. “Goodnight, I guess,” he offered sheepishly. The poor guy looked like someone had kicked his puppy.

“Goodnight, Stiles,” y/n replied with a false calm tone. Once she had shut their bedroom door, Stiles turned around and kicked the couch, likely scuffing his black derby shoes. He pulled out his phone as he slumped down on the couch and began typing out a message to Scott.

_8:45 p.m. I fucked up, man._

_8:46 p.m. No shit, Sherlock._

* * *

y/n tossed and turned in bed for about an hour and a half after she’d washed her wasted makeup off and slipped under the sheets. She glanced towards her nightstand where the numbers on her alarm clock shone a bright blue. 10:25 p.m.

“Fuck me,” she groaned as she turned to her back and stared up at the ceiling, unsuccessfully willing sleep to wash over her. After a few more minutes of her mind running wild while her eyes were screwed shut, she huffed and sat up in bed, throwing the covers off. “Fuck this,” she whispered as she got up, grabbing a blanket. She tiptoed down the hall, peeking around the corner to see Stiles laying down on the couch, staring straight up at the ceiling with his hands clasped over his chest. y/n took another step forward, wincing as the floorboard beneath her creaked. Stiles quickly propped himself up on his elbows and looked towards the source of the noise. A sad smile made its way across his face.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

“Hi,” y/n returned shyly. She didn’t quite know why. She wasn’t the one in the wrong but she still found herself feeling guilty.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked softly. y/n shook her head. “Me neither,” he looked down towards his lap. He raised his eyebrows in surprise when she made her way into the living room and crawled into the space between his body and the back of the couch. She draped the blanket she’d brought over both of them and snuggled into his chest as he laid back down. She wrapped an arm around his torso and tangled a leg in between both of his. Stiles leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“This doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you,” she reminded him.

“I know,” he replied with a small smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know what you think! also, feel free to check out my tumblr (@thesewordsareallihavetogive)


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